


Midnight Visitor

by SylvesterM



Category: iCarly
Genre: Emotional Support, F/M, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Romance, Seddie - Freeform, Slow Burn, The burn isn't THAT slow though, These two dorks are there for each other, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 14:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvesterM/pseuds/SylvesterM
Summary: A series of chronological oneshots wherein Sam and Freddie find themselves in each other's company in the dead of night. Ham is thrown, words are said, lingering gazes are stolen, and hands are nervously held. There are no labels. They're there for each other, and that's enough. Seddie. Post iSpeed Date. Rated T for some cursing and the occasional suggestive scenario. Crossposted to FF.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is a collection of oneshots starting a little after iSpeed Date, with typically weeks to months passing by between each one. The common premise is that it will always feature Sam and Freddie, and it will take place in the dead of night. More often than not, they serve as each other's emotional support. Their friendship strengthens and blossoms into something new and different. This story is my take on how this relationship develops.
> 
> I can't promise regular updates. This was first posted to FF, and I'm posting it up here for a little more reach and feedback. Chapter 1 was actually written in 2014. Chapter 2 was written a week ago. Inspiration came out of nowhere, what can I say? Nevertheless, I sort of have an idea as to how future chapters will go, and I will update and write when I can.

"What color is the sky?!" The blonde's whisper shout played into his headset, and he couldn't help but chuckle fondly. Reaching for his root beer with one hand, he controlled his mouse with the other. He hovered his cursor over to the audio boost. He took a sip as he raised the boost to 25%. No doubt about it, Freddie had great equipment, be it video or audio, but picking up faint yet sharp voices was still a challenge, hence his need to edit the Wake Up Spencer clips that he and Sam filmed.

"Cheese!" Spencer's voice grunted in a way that made it seem like the answer was so obvious. Strange fellow he was.

"What's my mom's name?" It was his own voice that he heard this time. His eyes rolled habitually when he recalled Spencer's answer to his question. He was right though.

"Wacko Benson!!" Spencer yelled. Freddie shook his head slightly. He also remembered Sam struggling to stop herself from bursting out laughing and waking Spencer up completely. It wasn't seen because she was behind the camera, with him, but she was covering her mouth. You could hear her mirth through her repeated snorts and heck, he could feel it with how she shook to contain it. It's not that he was all close to her willingly or anything, it's just that they had to be close together to fit in the small space next to Spencer's bed. That's what he told himself. It's what he told himself when he found Sam pressed against him and giggling at the silly ex-lawyer.

"You got that one spot on, cap'n!" Sam told him between stifled laughs. Freddie remembered glaring at her then, but he decided to hold his tongue. They never fought during these segments. It would almost be weird how civil they were when practicing and performing skits. It was actually sort of nice. It was moments like those he remembered that the blonde headed demon that caused him so much grief was really a good friend. He couldn't tell what made it any different from rehearsing for iCarly, where Sam assaulted him verbally and physically like she usually did. Was it because Carly would be there? Freddie snorted at the thought. Why would Carly's presence affect how Sam acted around him?

"I'm a captain? Where's... where's the private? He owes me chicken salad!" Spencer's brow furrowed in frustration as he spoke, and Freddie laughed out loud at that. He looked so distressed over his fictional chicken salad; it was nuts.

"You wanna know where he is, Spence?" It was Sam's voice this time, speaking with a tone that one would use on dogs. Freddie found himself shaking his head again, smiling at the madness of it all. To think it all started with both of them being unable to sleep at 3AM with nothing better to do. It was probably two or three years ago, Freddie figured. They did it weekly back then. It was every fortnight now. Sometimes monthly. Spencer was catching on. Sometimes he'd be more lucid than loopy, and they couldn't have that. Making it irregular maintained the quality. Freddie really did miss doing it weekly when he thought about it. It was fun, and he and Sam usually had midnight snacks after getting the job done. What more was there to ask for? Carly? Freddie snorted yet again at his train of thought. Not once did they take Carly with them on their Wake Up Spencer sessions. It wasn't that they didn't want her there...  It was just some sort of unspoken covenant that it was sort of their thing.

"Woah." Freddie muttered to himself as he watched video-Spencer reply incoherently as expected. "Sam and I don't have a thing."

They had a... a weird frenemyship. Though Freddie had to seriously pause for a moment to think about it. Frenemies? Was that what they still were? After years of iCarly, was that it? Surely there was something more, after all, frenemies don't just humiliate each other in front of the whole world then proceed to kiss each other _just to get it over with_. They don't cut each other's sleeves and pants up then give up a six month luxury cruise just to _protect iCarly_ , right?

"He's asleep, Spencer!" His own voice yapping at Spencer over the headset snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realized that he and Sam were wrapping up the segment. Freddie never quite understood why it was that whenever he stayed up late to edit iCarly clips, his mind would start wandering far and wide, and more often than he cared to admit, his mind put Sam on the spotlight. It was like he kept trying to analyze their strange little relationship. Maybe overanalyzing it, even. Making up things that weren't even there until his annoying brain conjured it up.

Spencer flopped back onto his pillow, sound asleep. It made him wish he could fall asleep that easily. It's not that he had difficulty sleeping. He just struggled to get to sleep when his mind was busy, like any other teenager.

The camera turned to point at the duo, iCarly's co-host and technical producer. Freddie and Sam gave their parting remarks, the usual, "She's Sam!" "He's Freducini!"

Perhaps not so usual. It was always one variation of his name or another, occasionally calling him by his real nickname. Freddie had to chuckle when he saw himself casting a sideways glare at the blonde to his side, who just beamed at the camera.

Freddie paused the video just as they were about to repeat the name of the segment. A quick edit to put the "Wake Up Spencer!" graphic in and he was done with this clip. As his fingers closed in on his keyboard, he noticed something he hadn't several nights ago when they shot the footage.

In the video, Sam had her chin on his shoulder and she tilted her head to rest against his own. She was about to open her mouth to name the segment but it was noticeable how wide she smiled at the camera. Not to mention... the place wasn't that tight. They could have fit on camera and next to Spencer's bed if she moved a little to the side. Yet she didn't. She contently kept close to him and grinned like a hyena.

Freddie found a small smile spreading onto his lips as he stared at the screen. He couldn't quite gather how he didn't remember that. One would think being within a proximity such as that and living to tell the tale would be rather memorable. It was those little things, those little boundaries that were breached without either of them noticing. Those were the things that reminded him that they weren't just enemies forced to get along for the sake of Carly. They were more than that.

With a few taps, the graphic was set to play. Forwarding the video a few seconds more, he clicked around for a moment, setting it to fade out instead of stopping abruptly.

"And, we're clear." He groaned, stretching his limbs out as far as they could reach.

He smacked his lips slightly. It was a Friday night, so there wasn't much to do the next day. Sleeping early wasn't a total necessity, but he felt sleepy nonetheless. He idly rewinded the clip to check if the graphic played properly. That's what he told himself. He paused it when Sam's smile reached its widest. Of course he justified that's when the small graphic was about to show up.

Freddie couldn't get over it. He didn't notice the slight weight on his right shoulder, or her head resting against his own. How could he not have felt that? Was it more usual than he thought and so he didn't really take note of it? It made him wonder though... If he did feel it, would he have inched away from Sam? Why? Why not?

Freddie shook his head once again, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. He placed a hand on his laptop, about to close it when his stomach grumbled in discontent. Freddie sighed quietly. If he was lucky, his mother left something in the fridge that wasn't disgusting. Standing up and taking his headset off, Freddie quietly made his way out of his room and slowly made it to the kitchen. Last thing he needed was to wake his mother up. She'd have a panic attack and say he might trip and break his bottom in the dark or something.

Freddie opened the fridge and crouched down, scavenging through its contents. "C'mon, Mister Fridge. Don't let Freddie down."

"You talk to yourself now, nub?"

Freddie's head shot up with a start, banging into the top of the fridge, shaking its contents violently as he cursed. He grabbed a carrot from the bottom drawer and spun around, pointing the small orange vegetable at the intruder. It took Freddie all of two seconds to realize the intruder was none other than Sam.

"Ooh, a carrot. I surrender, you vicious animal!" She drawled sarcastically, raising her hands up in mock defeat. Sam took several bored steps towards the shocked boy, who was still unable to clearly process her sudden arrival. When he didn't put the carrot down, she grabbed his wrist and stepped in close, forcing it behind his back and pinning him against the refrigerator. She tortured him enough over the years to know just how much pressure to apply before he dropped the offending vegetable.

Freddie's breath hitched when Sam was mere inches from his face. She just stared, not saying anything. Freddie struggled to form a proper sentence in his head, but failed time and time again. He couldn't tell whether it was the hint of sweetness in Sam's hair or the fact that Sam could do many things, little to none of them good, in the compromising position she put him in, that made him feel lightheaded for a moment. He found his tongue, just barely.

"Sam, how-why- what are-" The bewildered teenager went on, attempting to ask her about her arrival but was still ultimately unable. There were just too many questions to ask. He must have hit his head too hard.

Sam kept her eyes locked onto his. It annoyed her how she had to look up at him when she glared. It wasn't the same.

Taking pity on the confused Freddie, Sam let go of his arm. She then grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to give herself access to the fridge. She silently rummaged through it, probably looking for meat.

Freddie took the time to compose himself, straightening out his shirt and his PJ pants. It was then he realized he wore a Galaxy Wars shirt of all the nights Sam had to pay him a surprise visit. The pants were just plaid, so they weren't anything Sam could use to torment him. Or at least, he didn't think she could.

"Nice shirt by the way." Came the sarcastic voice. Freddie rolled his eyes, now more awake and aware of what was happening.

"What gives, Puckett? Why sneak in here at two in the morning? And the fact that I'm _not_ bleeding out on the ground right now means you're not here to have revenge on me for some stupid thing I don't even know I d-" Freddie was interrupted by Sam standing up and shoving a cookie into his mouth. His wide eyes darted back and forth and he grunted through the gluten-free dough. Sam found the ham he kept, as evidenced by the delicious smelling plate she walked away with. He was never a fan of ham until she came into his life. It sort of rubbed off on him. Sam disappeared around a corner as Freddie took the cookie out of his mouth and gulped down the barely chewed bits.

"Sam? Where are you going?" He had to whisper shout to avoid waking up his mother.

"I know where your room is, don't get your antibacterial underpants in a knot." Her hiss came from around the corner.

"My room?" Freddie asked himself. Without further delay he quickened his pace and rounded the corner to reach his door, to find it ajar, and Sam already sitting on his bed and munching away on the ham. Freddie cautiously closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Sam's eyes were glued to his bed sheets which were, thankfully, not Galaxy Wars at the moment. One less thing she could insult him over, he supposed. The rest of his room though... Freddie just found hope in the fact that she hadn't started making fun of the various posters and figurines yet.

"So... what's the deal, Sam?" He asked again, hoping she'd actually reply this time. She still didn't. She was looking at his laptop, which was at full screen. Of course, on his laptop was a freeze frame of Sam and himself grinning at the camera, with Sam comfortably leaning on the dork. He felt his face heating up when he realized that it must have looked like his wallpaper.

Freddie took several awkward steps to his laptop to close it, eliminating the only source of artificial light in the room and catching Sam's eye as he did. She let out a huff of air that sounded like a cross between a scoff and an airy chuckle. He wasn't quite sure which would have made him more comfortable.

He sat down on his computer chair and leaned back, crossing his legs as he did so, watching Sam chew on the ham in silence. All that could be heard was the sound of her chewing.

It was only now that Freddie actually got a good look at Sam. Her hair was messy, not styled the way it usually was. Her clothing looked just a little too ruffled for it to be normal. Her- was that make up? Freddie squinted slightly to see Sam. It was difficult, considering the only source of light was the moon, through his window.  Not to mention his window had curtains so there was barely any light passing through anyway. Her lipstick was smeared ever so slightly. Since when did Sam wear lipstick? Freddie's frown deepened when he saw how her hands just barely trembled as she scooped the pork into her mouth.

He didn't like this in the least. Her body language was off and the air was heavy. You could cut the tension with a dull knife. He shuffled about in his chair for a while, hoping she would break the silence soon. He wasn't used to this anymore. When silence would befall the two of them, it was usually comfortable and rather nice. This was making him nervous. He was almost praying she would start insulting his hair or his room or anything at all. Anything would be better than the dead air.

For lack of anything better to do, Freddie munched on the cookie he almost forgot he was holding; the cookie he was force fed to keep quiet. No wonder Sam didn't eat it. It didn't taste horrible but... weird. Sugar free, gluten-free cookies usually did. He hardly noticed the taste the first time, considering it was shoved into his mouth without consent.

"I don't really know why I came to you. I'm not your perfect little _Carly_. You hate me. Why would you care about anything I'm about to tell you?" Sam was staring straight ahead, distant. She refused to make eye contact with Freddie. He was baffled somewhat.

"Come on, Sam. I don't _hate_ you. I mean, yeah we _hate_ each other but... that never stopped us from being friends, weird as it is, you know?" Freddie rubbed his hands together awkwardly. The blonde sitting at the foot of his bed still wouldn't so much as look at him.

"And I know. I mean, I know you're not Carly. I never said you were. I never asked you to be her." That's when Sam's head snapped in Freddie's direction, her eyes narrowed into slits that glared at him. Freddie gulped visibly, unaware of where he went wrong.

"Yes. You have." She growled. "Maybe you never said those exact words, but of course; leave it to a dork like you to find ways to compare me to her, to make it sound like it would be better if I were more like her."

Freddie frowned for a moment and tried to think of any instance he really did just that. If there were any, they were vague, and he struggled to sort them out. At the most, he probably told her she should be more ladylike like Carly, or something. That was probably years and years ago, too.

"Sam..." Freddie put his face in his hands for a moment and sighed, knowing he couldn't win this conversation. "Whatever it is I said, whenever I said it, I'm sorry, okay? It was very nubbish of me to make that comparison."

Sam's expression was a mix of one that was thankful, but at the same time annoyed. How she was able to produce such a combination of emotions was beyond Freddie. After observing her for a moment, Freddie continued.

"All I wanted to say was that I care too. You may make my life miserable and everything but like I said before: it would be weird if you didn't do that. So yeah. I do care, pranks and insults aside."

"Haven't insulted you enough, I see." Freddie's initial reaction was to cast her a glare, but when he saw that she cracked her first smile the whole night, despite how small it was, he felt the pang of irritation dissolve as quickly as it had come. He found himself smiling back and relaxing into his chair more easily.

"So will you finally tell me what brings you to _Casa de Freddo_ at this time?" 'And not over to Carly's,' was what Freddie was unable to add in afterthought. He stretched his arms wide, motioning to his room. He saw her roll her eyes but chuckle quietly nonetheless. At least she was lightening up.

"Remember Pete?"

"Yeah, you practiced on me for your date with him ages ago. Then you tried to dislocate my shoulder." Freddie added the last part with a hint of false irritation, hoping to get her to crack a smile. It didn't work though. She was stoic yet again, looking straight ahead.

"Remember the stupid Ladies' Choice Dance thing?" Freddie's frown returned and he had to raise an eyebrow at her questioningly, unable to see how Pete was related to this. To reply, Freddie just hummed in affirmation, and moved his hand slightly to urge her to go on.

"I dunno if I ever told you in detail, and I'm not sure if I really want to, but to sum it up... Gibby, the shirtless little turd, turned me down because he had a girlfriend." Freddie's eyes widened in response, unable to picture it. "So I didn't bother going to the stupid dance. It's not that I really wanted to go to it but I just hated that feeling. I thought I could cheer myself up but..."

Sam stole a glance at Freddie and clearly hesitated to continue. When she didn't continue to speak in the next half minute, Freddie rolled his chair closer to Sam, concern evident on his features. He kept himself three feet away from her, just in case she got kicky. It was a habitual precaution he'd been taking ever since the first time she entered his room.

"But what, S-" Sam cut him off with a failed kick in his direction, and Freddie was glad he kept his distance as his hands went up to cover his face, just in case she reached further. Peeking through his fingers, he could just barely see her face illuminated by the moonlight. There was a mix of emotions on her face that he couldn't quite place. Anger. Frustration. And something else. Hurt?

Whatever it was, it triggered a strange rumble in Freddie's gut, and for a moment, he swore to himself that he didn't want to see that look cross her face ever again. It felt so wrong and unnatural. Not Sam like.

"But then I saw my two best friends doing just _fine_ without me, dancing all happy like in the Groovy Smoothie!" Sam hissed. That's all it took for Freddie's blood to run cold, as he stared at her with wide eyes. Only he, Carly, and T-Bo knew about that. But-

"So I just left. Didn't wanna ruin your perfect little night with your perfect little Carly." Sam practically spat the words out. Freddie opened his mouth to reply but was unable to procure a sound at first. He had absolutely no idea that dance would have had such an impact on Sam.

"I didn't see you come in." Freddie blurted. Sam rolled her eyes in response and attempted to reach him with a kick but failed once again.

"Of course you didn't! You were too busy with your perfect Carly dance that you probably dreamt of for years." Sam gritted her teeth, obviously having no time for Freddie's nonsensical statements. "Besides..."

"I would've just been a stupid rash to you guys. Irritating and not leaving." She returned to her ham after this, seeming like she was done talking. But she couldn't be. This still hardly made sense. What did Pete have to do with this? Why did she just show up to complain about it? Why didn't she go to Carly's?

Freddie really felt for her though, and it probably showed on his face, because when Sam glanced at the boy before her, she rolled her eyes. She didn't like pity and she never would, Freddie knew. He also knew that convincing Sam that it was actual compassion and sympathy and not just pity that he had would be harder than moving mountains. But if he didn't try, then what kind of friend was he?

"Sa-" The piece of meat hit him in the face so fast he hardly had time to register its approach. Freddie groaned, the sticky ham slowly sliding off his face and onto his lap. "Oh, Sam."

He picked the ham up and gave her a questioning look. "What was that for?"

"For being a dork." She growled. When Freddie didn't move or reply, she added, "Well give it back!"

Rolling his eyes, he tossed the piece of meat back to Sam, who simply had to lean back and open her mouth. She caught it effortlessly and proceeded to chew. Some things never changed no matter how upset she was, it seemed.

"Sam, just to reiterate, I care. But I don't understand why you'd pick me, the _technical weenie_ as you put it, over Carly to tell this to. And don't be silly. If you said hi at the Smoothie, you wouldn't have ruined anything... It was no big deal. I mean, it was _just_ a dance." He didn't realize he was beginning to ramble, wiping the sauce from his face as he spoke. "It's not like we became a couple or anything. It was just a dance. Between friends. A friendly dance between friends. That you could have walked in on and interrupted just fine. I mean, if it makes you feel better, I would have d-"

"Oh, shut it, Benson." Sam's exasperated voice cut him off. "I didn't tell Carly because she wouldn't get me."

When Freddie looked at her questioningly, as if to say, "And you think I would?" Sam preempted the verbalization of the question, "You of all people should understand me. After all, Carly's rejected you a hundred times and counting. But Carly..."

Freddie rolled his eyes for the nth time that night. He was starting to get it the more he thought about it though. It was more than just being rejected by Gibby. It was her self-worth.

"Carly has it so easy. Hundreds of guys line up for her and how many do I get?" Sam looked at Freddie, daring him to answer the rhetorical question to start a fight. He had no intention of doing so.

"None. Always second best.  Always falling short." Sam lay down on the bed, arms spread out, the nearly empty plate resting on her belly. "I'm just tired of it, Fredward. She probably wouldn't believe me if I told her all this. Does Carly constantly deal with rejection? Does Carly get left out? Does she get pushed aside because there's someone better? Don't get me wrong, I love Carls and all, it's just... she wouldn't get me."

Freddie's stomach was at it again, and he felt the need to console her. She was trying to keep up the tough image, no doubt about it. She was doing a good job too. The thing was that after years of her voice causing him emotional pain, he knew it by heart. That's why he noticed the tiniest waver in her voice as she spoke. After years of her staring him down to intimidate him, he knew her eyes by heart. That's why he could see the gut wrenching sadness hidden in them.

Freddie slowly stood up and approached Sam, intending to sit next to her.

"Sam, I t-" Freddie stopped dead in his tracks when Sam lifted her foot up threateningly, aiming it at his face. Sure, he might lose a tooth if she cocked back and kicked. Sure, he might lose another if he sat down after that. Sure, the commotion might wake his mother up and cause an unnecessary shouting match. But Freddie wasn't going to have any of that. He knew the risk of what he was about to do, and part of him was telling him to just sit back down on his chair, while the other told him to sit next to her.

Freddie gently held onto her foot with his right hand, causing Sam to stop staring at the ceiling to look at him with a bored, blank expression. The thought to try and tickle her and lighten the mood came into mind, and he immediately yelled at the inner voice that told him to do so. The fact that she hadn't kicked him yet was a good sign, and... tickling Sam Puckett was just going to increase the likelihood of that happening. Sam's expression began turning into one that said he was weird, considering he was turning red and staring at her foot for a good while as he held it. Awkwardly, he moved past her foot while releasing it, and sat down to her side. Sam's leg limply fell back down to dangle off his bed, audibly sighing as she did.

"Puckett, I-" As Freddie's hand was about to close around her knee as a humble sign of support, Sam stopped him yet again, "Dude." It was like he couldn't finish a single sentence that night.

"I don't want to hear the "it gets better" talk, okay? Because you don't know that. It's like encouraging you to pine after Carly since, you know, she'll never love you." He shook his head silently at that. "I don't need that bullshit right now."

Freddie rubbed his hands together for a moment, his eyes glued to the ground. Sam rather effectively shut him up. But of course, he was stubborn and wouldn't give up too easily. He took a more cautious path. "What _do_ you need right now?"

It was Sam's turn to be silent as she pondered over her succeeding words. What she said caused Freddie's heart to skip a beat. "A dork that'll listen and understand."

"Sometimes, you just gotta let everything out and I sort of need that right now. You can save your little encouragement speeches for later if you think they're that important." Taking the plate and placing it on her lap, Sam sat up, and Freddie belatedly realized how little space there was between them. If Sam noticed, she paid it no mind.

"So... Pete." Sam began, but found herself unable to continue right after.

"Pete." Freddie echoed.

"As you know, we never really became... an _item_. We went out a few times, and he seemed to really like me for me and not some daffodil. Pete and I never really clicked. At first I thought we did but after a while, the texts got less frequent, we met up less, and you know how it goes." Sam kept looking straight ahead. She didn't want to give Freddie the chance to look into her eyes and into her soul like only he could with those damned piercing brown eyes she hated so much.

"We met up again. A few weeks ago. Before you ask," Sam heard Freddie's intake of air in preparation to speak and beat him to it. "I didn't tell you or Carly about it. I didn't tell you guys because I didn't know where our _relationship_ was going. It wasn't going anywhere good, I'm telling you."

There was the tiniest fluctuation in her tone as she spoke, and it was more noticeable than the last. Freddie, without thinking, placed a hand on Sam's knee once again, causing her to tense up. When he squeezed in reassurance, she visibly let out a shaky breath of air she hardly knew she was holding. She relaxed slightly and nodded to herself, clearly finding no joy in the story she was telling.

"I don't want to drag this out longer than it has to, so I'll just say it. He was just being nice to me the past few weeks because he wanted in on my pants. When he first said he wanted to get together again, I thought- I thought he actually might have seriously liked me. It was just a big ol' slap of false hope. It was stupid to think a guy might have finally liked me. Turns out it was only physical," Sam seemed to try and lighten the room up. "He just wanted a cut of mama's cake."

Sam laughed at her own statement for a moment before growing silent. "Asshole."

Freddie grunted softly as his hand went up to rub the back of his neck. He didn't know how Sam felt, of course. He did, however, sympathize with her greatly, and his heart bled for her, and his anger called for blood. Not wanting to sound too sappy, he said, "Please tell me you broke his thumbs and kicked him where guys shouldn't be kicked."

Sam let out an airy chuckle in response; it didn't last. She was straight faced in no time, and she fidgeted with the edges of the plate on her lap as she replied, "When Pete kept trying to be all unzippy and I kept saying no, it sort of sent the point across that he didn't care. All he wanted was this," Sam gestured to her body. "But yeah, I got back at him I guess. Pretty sure he won't be feeling his jaw anytime soon; he'll probably stay away from piers for a while too."

Freddie grinned at this and he patted her knee in amusement. "That's the Sam I know."

"Dork." Sam's monosyllabic reply was paired with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Is that why you look all frazzled though?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Who says _frazzled_?" Sam turned to him and slugged him in the shoulder, not enough to bruise, but enough for him to inhale sharply and rub his sore limb.

"Well that was rude." Was all Freddie could let out in reply.

"Yeah, what's new?" Sam rolled her eyes before returning to Freddie's question. "But yeah, that's why I look _frazzled_. We were on his uncle's boat and it was docked by the pier. We were making out and stuff and when he started pushing it, I punched him. I guess I hit him hard because he sort of stumbled overboard. Home was a ways off compared to here and I wasn't really in the mood to be picked on by the freaks of the night so I decided to head to Bushwell. Then here we are."

"I hate it. Just when I think someone comes along and likes me, he just likes my body." Sam rubbed her face in frustration. "I guess it's a one up over Carly when you think about it but... it's not a very big thing to be proud of. _"Hey there's this guy that pretended to like me for me because he wanted to screw me and not you!"_ It doesn't sound so great."

"Sam..." Freddie soothingly rubbed circles around her knee. "For what it's worth, I think he's a total skunk bag. Losing you the way things went down, he's a big idiot. His loss. Guy must have been pretty blind to just see, well, _you_. I mean," Unbeknownst to Freddie, he began rambling again, and Sam felt herself smiling ever so slightly. "There's more to you that meets the eye. Sure you're violent and enjoy causing other people pain, but you have a nice side too! When you aren't trying to yank my arm out or force feed me gluten-free cookies, I genuinely enjoy your company- like during those Wake Up Spencer bits we do! You're funny, and creative, and I-"

Sam's hand effectively covered Freddie's mouth, muffling his words. With her free hand, Sam grabbed Freddie's shoulder to pull him closer and whisper in his ear, "Shut up."

When he complied, Sam released him and the room grew quiet. Although it was still slightly awkward, it wasn't as bad as earlier, and for that, Freddie was grateful.

Freddie swore if he ever saw Pete in Ridgeway, he'd give him a piece of his mind. Hell, he'd beat him up if it weren't for the fact that Pete probably had guy friends to back him up. Sure, Freddie had Sam, but who'd say she would back him up. In any other circumstance, maybe. But not in that hypothetical situation. She wouldn't appreciate Freddie fighting her battles for her. If she wanted to beat him up further, she'd do it. She didn't need her dorky friend to try and pick a fight with him.

That angered Freddie. He couldn't do anything to help. Freddie's hands, on his own lap now, were balled into fists, and he had to breathe slowly and evenly to get rid of the bloodlust. Maybe that's how Sam felt, in a sense. Unable to do anything.

"You really mean that though?" Sam suddenly asked, bringing Freddie out of his thoughts. She was looking straight at him, and Freddie struggled to place her expression. The dim lighting wasn't helping. If anything, it made it harder to speak. He never really noticed it earlier when he was on his chair since she was against the light, but looking at her now with her head turned to him... The moonlight had its way of highlighting her features, accenting every little detail. From her deep blue eyes, to the curve of her cheeks, and to her soft lips that suddenly seemed so attractive. The ghostly glow that the night created caused him to lick his lips nervously. She was beautiful.

"Mean what?" Freddie asked lamely. It was too late when he realized, when Sam rolled her eyes, how stupid the question sounded.

"Everything, Fredweird."

"Yeah. I do. Any guy would have to be a complete nub to not see how awesome you really are. It'll take some time to get to know you and see through the pain and all but... I guess there's just a lot of nubs in the world if they pass by you to go straight for Ca-" Freddie was unable to finish the sentence, as he was on the floor and looking up at the ceiling in less than a second, groaning in pain.

"Look who's talking about passing me by and going straight for Carly." The venom in her voice made the boy fear for his life, paired with the fact that Sam was now pinning him down. It took a second to register that Sam may have just insinuated that he was in some way desirable enough to be compared to guys she liked that passed her by.

"You're just like the rest, Fredlumps. Who needs Sam when there's perfect, sweet, smart little Carly?" Freddie's expression shifted from fearing for his life to saddened for the blonde on top of him. It was at that moment he realized he was indeed a nub. He was, however, a nub that didn't want to be proven wrong. Before his brain waited for better judgment, he spoke.

"Well what if I like imperfect, mean, crazy _mama_ just the way she is? Maybe I don't think Carly's perfect, figurative and literal, girl next door thing is as appealing as I used to. Maybe I think your spontaneous, wild, insulting thing is something I shouldn't have overlooked and been scared of at first glance." It was only when Freddie put it into words right then and there that he realized what he said. And that he never realized what all he said was true.

"You're just saying that." Sam snarled. "Don't lie to me, Benson!"

"You _know_ me, Puckett. You know when I'm lying. Do you honestly thing I'd lie about something like that when you're clearly in the position to make me sorry?" Freddie ceased struggling against Sam's gripped and focused all his energy into staring Sam down, which was rather difficult, considering she was on top of him and his face was in imminent danger of being reshaped.

They stared at each other intently for quite a while, for how long, they could only guess. It was only when Sam removed herself from Freddie and sat back down on his bed that he could breathe easily. The brunette propped himself up on his shoulders to look at Sam, who was back to staring at the wall. He stood up and slowly made his way to Sam. When she didn't show any attempt to hurt him again, he eased himself into the spot next to her in silence, waiting for her to say something.

"Don't play with me, Fredward. I will break you if you do." Sam let out a murmur. One that Freddie just barely caught.

"I wouldn't consider it." Was all Freddie said. Truthfully, Freddie was just as confused as Sam was about what he said. He never really thought about it but now that he did, Sam was a pretty cool person when she wasn't hurting him. She was also quite beautiful. She was unpredictable and fun, and that's what made her exciting to be with, even if it often ended up at his expense. If that meant he like-liked her, he had no idea. An hour ago, the thought of it was almost ridiculous, now he wasn't quite sure. Moreover, what did Sam mean by that just now. Did she like him? For how long? The teenage brain was a very frustrating thing. He decided to try and at least voice his thoughts.

"Look, Sam. I don't know where that came from, but I know I meant it at least. I like you a lot. Maybe not in _that_ way, but..." Freddie shrugged helplessly. "Doesn't mean I never will... _or might already._ " Freddie practically whispered the last part.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're a really cool person and I can't believe I never realized that. I'm a blind nub. It sucks that it took me this long to realize it but hey, better late than never, right?"

The last part had Sam punch Freddie's shoulder, causing him to wince and her to smile. Sam rubbed the spot she punched fondly, "Well, my sappy Dorkward, I have to say that means a lot."

Freddie smiled back, "So, now what?"

"If you're talking about our strange little feelings, I say we can settle that some other time. No need to force everything to happen overnight," Upon seeing Freddie's slightly crestfallen face, she added, "Don't be glum, nubby, I said some other time, not never speak of it again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but... It's best to take some time, y'know? Let nature run its course."

Freddie chuckled, motioning with his hand to allow Sam to continue, "But, if you're talking about right now, I could use some sleep."

He stood up right away, heading to his closet to retrieve blankets and an extra pillow. He opened the closet door but shut it immediately after. His damned Carly poster was still in there. That was the last thing Sam needed to see tonight. Awkwardly, Freddie opened the other closet door and stuck his arm shoulder deep into the closet to reach over and take the needed sleeping materials.

"What are you doing, Fredward?" Sam's puzzled voice reached his ears.

"You can take my bed, Sam. I'm just getting a blanket and a pillow; I'll crash on the couch." He replied, still digging through the closet and unable to see Sam's appreciative smile. Freddie only stopped when he felt something soft and slimy land on the back of his neck. His eyes widened and his free hand reached around to find-

"Ham? Seriously, Sam?!" Freddie removed himself from the closet to shake the piece of meat in her direction, causing her to giggle softly. Predicting Sam's next demand, he tossed the ham back to the meat slinging blonde, who caught it with ease. Freddie then let out a disgusted grunt and retrieved some tissue from his desk and began to wipe the back of his neck.

"I don't need to sleep here, Fredfoot. I can always crash at the Shay's; not like they aren't used to finding me asleep on their couch without telling them." Freddie's face heated up by just a little bit, and he was glad for the low light conditions. She would have definitely poked fun at his redness.

He didn't really think about Sam sleeping at the Shay's as usual. Why it didn't cross his mind, the boy could only guess.

Freddie tossed the balled up tissues into the trash bin under his desk before approaching Sam once again. "You sure you won't stay for the night?"

Sam waved a hand, "Yeah, no need to bug your nubbish little night any more than I gotta."

Freddie sighed. He supposed it was for the best. After all, his mother would have a cow if she found Sam of all people asleep in his bed and not him. Actually just having Sam in his house would probably make her freak out. Freddie stopped to think, staring ahead as he did. He wanted to say something before she left, he just didn't know how to say it. He opened his mouth several times, only to close it and gulp, still picking through his vocabulary to form proper sentences. Why was he so tongue tied? All he wanted to do was reiterate how great she was and how stupid guys were, including him, to not see that. It almost seemed like Sam understood though, because she spoke up.

"I know, Fredifer. I get it." She said, her tone a cross of exasperation and appreciation. For lack of better reply, he just closed the distance between them and hugged her, despite the fact she was sitting and he wasn't. To say Sam was tense would be a large understatement. Her cheek pressed against his chest and he rubbed her back slowly, making her ease up by a little. He heard the soft utterance of _dork_ , causing him to break into a grin. Since Freddie couldn't quite express himself in words at the moment, he decided to express himself physically. In a move that surprised even Freddie himself, he bent down to press his lips against the top of her head, causing Sam to tense up once again. When Sam still wasn't returning the hold he had on her, he attempted to break the silence.

"You're gonna break my arm now, right?" The question, mumbled into her head and reminiscent of their first kiss, had Sam laughing softly as she placed her hands on Freddie's chest to push him away.

"No. But don't push your luck, Freddie." She stood up and gradually made her way to the door, Freddie following her as she walked. He almost didn't want to see her go just yet.

When her hand landed on the door knob, he found himself placing a hand over hers to stop her from leaving. When Sam turned her quizzical look to Freddie, he added with a smile, "I hate you."

She let out an airy chuckle and removed her hand from the knob. To Freddie's surprise, she wrapped her arms around Freddie's neck, her head buried in his chest once again. His hands automatically went to return the hug. It felt nice. It felt right.

"Thank you, Freddie. Glad to have a nub like you around." Came the voice muffled by his shirt, which made him grin all the more.

"Give Pete a shiner for me if you see him again." Freddie muttered into her ear, causing Sam to smile into his chest, one he didn't see.

When Sam tried to pull away, Freddie held on, his arms still bound around her waist. If someone told him hours ago that he'd be doing this, he'd think they were dangerously crazy. But in all fairness, restraining Sam by hugging her was dangerously crazy. "You sure you wanna sleep at Carly's?"

"I said," Sam pinched Freddie's arm, eliciting a girly yelp from the boy and causing his arms to retract. "Don't push your luck, Benson."

Freddie rubbed his arm fervently while Sam twisted the doorknob and eased the door open, her eyes returning to Freddie's. She took a few steps until she was outside the room and about to close it. For a moment, Sam leaned on the door frame and seemed to consider her next few words.

"I hate you too." With a wink, Sam closed the door and was on her way, leaving Freddie standing and staring at his door, a stupid grin plastered on his face. He had no idea what to do. He doubted he was going to be getting much sleep with his mind rushing.

He began to walk around idly, subconsciously making his way to his closet. He figured Sam was right. There wasn't any need to force anything overnight. Doing that may not end well at all. It's not like they confessed their undying love for each other anyway. He just... admitted she was someone date-worthy that he'd go out with and he just might like her a bit. And she sort of implied she might like him as well. Or he totally misread the whole playing with her thing. If she did have feelings for him, he supposed that would be another reason she reacted so violently to his dance with Carly.

Carly...

Rejection, rejection.

That dance. Freddie still couldn't believe he didn't see or hear Sam come in. He had to wonder though, had he seen Sam enter the Smoothie, what would he have done? He liked to think he would have broken the dance, but odds were, he wouldn't. He probably would have stared at Sam with his eyes wide open, expecting her to throw her handbag at him. Maybe if he saw the hurt on her face, he would have stopped for her sake.

He opened his closet to fix the blankets he messed up not five minutes ago. Of course, he was met with Carly's face. He stared at it long and hard, a million thoughts going through his head. Without knowing it, Freddie ran his fingers along the sides of the poster. It was poorly cropped. He printed it out ages ago, probably around the time they celebrated their first iCarly broadcast. The cropping was awkward because the real photo had Sam in it, right next to her. Naturally, little Freddie didn't want the blonde headed demon's face in his closet, so he took her out. It almost made him feel guilty the more he thought about it. He started to ponder what if it was Sam's face taped to the door instead, with her cheeky grin and her stunning blue eyes staring right at him. While the thought may have put a small smile on his face, he knew that it would be a life-threateningly stupid move. If he valued his health, he shouldn't even be thinking about it.

He began questioning the poster, if he even really had to have it up there. It was what caused him to slowly peel the tape off, corner by corner, until he held the glossy piece of Carly in his hand, his eyes locked onto that of the poster. He sighed heavily, licking his lips. "I don't need you anymore, Carly."

"I guess we'll always be friends and I'll love you for that, but..." Freddie steadily made his way to his desk. "I'm not blind anymore."

As Freddie slowly folded the poster up into a tiny square, he recalled Sam's comment about him talking to himself. Sam's weirdness was rubbing off on him, he reasoned with himself. With one foot, he stepped on the latch to open his trash bin. Not as reluctantly as he imagined himself to be, he allowed the small square of paper, now no bigger than an inch wide and long, to slip into the bin. He released the latch, breathing deeply, feeling like it wasn't just a poster with her face on it that he let go.

Slowly making his way to bed, he felt a smile creeping its way to his face for the nth time that night. His mind no longer ran all over the face; he felt at peace. So when he dropped onto his bed and pulled the blanket up, he didn't mind when the last thing he thought of before slipping into slumber was a certain blonde's playful parting wink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after iSaved Your Life.
> 
> Freddie lies awake at night, fresh from his breakup with Carly. He can't help but wonder if he did the right thing, if he really was just foreign bacon to her. Who better to help him get his crippled head back on straight than our favorite ham slinging blonde?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. So this was written long, long, long after the first chapter. I'll apologize in advance if the quality isn't up to par, and I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Let me know what you think.

2:25 A.M.

The digital clock's soft green light pierced the pitch darkness of Fredward Benson's room. But that wasn't a problem, since sleep didn't grace Freddie with her sweet embrace this night. The boy was sat up in his bed, his upper body and head propped up by several pillows as he stared vacantly. His blanket and comforter (with the Galaxy Wars title font printed on it, naturally) were draped over the right side of his body, while his left leg stuck out. His dead stare was centered on said leg, which was still bound in a cast, and elevated by another pillow. The size of the bright orange cast was a little ridiculous, Freddie thought. It made his bed seem smaller than it really was. Which was preposterous, since his bed was _at least_ a full double. And Freddie knew he should consider himself fortunate for this, because most studies from the American Institute of Sleep reflect that majority of American teenagers have beds a size smaller than his own. After all-

Freddie's lips pressed together, and he audibly blew out a raspberry, cutting off his own stupid train of thought.

"What the hell are you even thinking about, Benson?" He sighed as his hands reached up to rub at his tired eyes. When he finished, his hands returned to their place on his midsection, where his free left hand tapped and fidgeted with the cast of his right arm. This caused his pupils to lock onto the comforter pulled up to his chest. Laundry day was yesterday. But with everything that had been going on, and Freddie's lack of mobility, he hadn't been able to change his sheets. That would make it the first time in twelve years Freddie went a week without his sheets changed to fresh, clean ones. Lord knows what sort of bacteria could be accumulating on his sheets now. He could already hear his mother beginning a half an hour lecture about all the health risks this could pose. The boy shifted uncomfortably under the covers at the thought of the germs. Freddie let out another raspberry.

"You're being ridiculous." He muttered. He had to be real with himself. The only reason his mind was wandering to these mundane, almost idiotic, things was because he was trying to distract himself. He had to take his mind off the fact he just broke up with Carly Shay, the girl of his dreams. He'd been unable to sleep since he got back to his room, because his thoughts were naturally fixated on the break up. So in an attempt to lull himself to sleep, Freddie set his mind onto all sorts of things. For hours, he'd been thinking of re-oiling the wheels of his computer chair, setting his digital clock to a different color, defragmenting his hard drive, and possibly buying a beanbag chair for his room, to name a few. Unfortunately for him, he was just as awake as he had been when he was replaying the evening's events in his mind over and over again.

Sighing quietly, Freddie concluded it would be madness to keep trying to distract himself to no avail, given the hours he'd already spent awake in bed. So he figured perhaps he needed to instead face his feelings. And he had a _lot_ of feelings.

The sound of wood creaking pierced the silence of his room, and Freddie's eyes scanned the darkness for its source. It had originated from his desk. He squinted and leaned forward ever so slightly. His eyes strained to make out anything in the inky black space under his desk, trying to find a shape or color, or anything out of place. Alas, it was fruitless. Freddie let his head fall back against his pillow. It was probably just the wood reacting to the temperature of the room, or something like that. After all, ghosts didn't exist. Or at least, he repeatedly told himself that to ease his anxiety.

Freddie's fingers drummed on his midsection, steadily inhaling and exhaling to clear his head. He needed to start from the beginning.

After the accident, Carly looked at him as if he were a totally different person. Carly was never difficult to read. She always had her tells when she liked a guy. She was light, almost floaty with how she stood, her head swishing back and forth ever so slightly as she flashes a coy smile. She'd release a lot of high pitched giggles, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear at the same time, usually while listening to him talk. Except Carly Shay didn't exactly listen. She would nod her head, a smile playing on her lips. Her eyes were explorers, and their destination all over his face. Her ears were open to his voice, taking it in, savoring it, but not quite giving his words the same treatment. Carly was handsy too. Her delicate fingers would dance along his arm, or tenderly stroke his hair. Her hands found solace against his sturdy chest. Much goosebumps were had whenever the brunette came into contact with Freddie. She was the jealous type too, apparently. Freddie smirked in the darkness as he recalled the day's events. The look Carly had shot those other girls while ushering him away was priceless.

The past few days were what his dreams were made of, minus the busted limbs. He remembered closing his eyes when he was younger, picturing the moment she agreed to be his girlfriend, and imagining all the things he and Carly would do together. He would get her flowers and some chocolate and ask her to give him a chance. Just one date would be all he needed. She'd say yes, and little Freddie would be beyond ecstatic. Their first date would be at a nice restaurant. Fancy enough that they used real napkins, but casual enough to have a few sticky spots on the floor that the cleaners could never get out. Afterwards they would watch a movie, preferably something funny to keep things light. Then they could get ice cream for dessert and talk about the movie. After having a great first date, Carly would say yes and agree to be his girlfriend. From there, their relationship would just get better and better. There would be long nights cuddled up on a sofa, watching TV. Fancy dinner dates, where he'd wear his best suit, and her a beautiful dress. They'd go to universities not too far apart so that they'd always be able to make time to see each other. Then somewhere along the line they'd get married and have two kids.

Freddie snorted. What a dreamer he was.

Yet there he was, living the dream. He would wake up and nearly jump with joy if not for his injury, since he knew that a new day would be a new day with Carly Shay as his girlfriend. A new day where she had eyes for only him. A new day where she reserved her brightest smile for him. A new day where her hands would never be far from his own. A new day where he got to taste her sweet pinacolada flavored lips again. And it was all thanks to a dumb taco truck. It was like something out of a rom-com sitcom. Guy likes girl. Girl doesn't like guy. Guy does some big thing (like save her life). Girl likes guy. Girl and guy get together. Series has a good run for ten years before becoming stale and overextending their welcome in the world of entertainment. Series' ratings plummet over time. Series gets cancelled and fans are left with an unsatisfying finale.

Freddie shook his head as he was getting off track.

But when Carly kissed him in his bedroom that first time, Freddie couldn't shake off a peculiar feeling. It was a tiny rumble in his gut, and a flutter in his heart. But it wasn't the good rumbling, fluttering you get when you're in love. The boy knew the difference. But there he was, high on teenage hormones from kissing his dream girl, and unable to place the odd feeling at the time. It still poked and prodded at his brain. What could have possibly been wrong at the time? It wasn't because he knew his mother might walk in at any moment; his hormones were more powerful than his fear of his mother. Could it have been the painkillers and antibiotics? Doubtful. Maybe it was because he was worried that Spencer might not approve of his little sister and he smootching it up? Unlikely. Maybe it was because he was worried Sam would find out and make fun of h-

Sam.

Freddie massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment before raking a hand through his hair. Of course. How hadn't he thought of that earlier? Stupid teenager hormones.

Things were different between them now, ever since her visit to him in the dead of night a month ago. Their arguments and pranks persisted, but their friendliness between one another had practically quadrupled. They were in synch in ways Freddie couldn't comprehend. Their jokes and banter flowed together perfectly. They played pranks on other people for a change. They laughed at all the same things. He could tell when Sam was ready to burst and hurt someone but was keeping it down. She could tell when Freddie was down in the dumps over academic matters but keeping his head high so as to not bring anyone down. Freddie stood up to and scared off a jock bullying his AV club friends. Sam aced her last two exams after taking Freddie on as a study partner. Freddie always packed spare textbooks in his bag for when Sam really, really needed to hit something. Sam would drag Freddie (sometimes literally) from his homework and down to the Groovy Smoothie whenever he was glum and wrapped up in his books. The barbs and banter they exchanged could easily be mistaken by some as flirting.

There were barriers between them, barriers they didn't even really know existed, which were torn down. It was a thought which had a smile steadily creeping its way up Freddie's lips. He adored this breath of fresh air in their relationship, though he'd never admit it to anyone. He never smiled or laughed as much as he did as when he was with Sam. Freddie would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't developing feelings for the feisty blonde after all that was said and admitted that night. The whole past month, Freddie had to make the conscious effort not to stare at her.

Sam lost a bet and so she consequently skipped and frolicked across Ridgeway's halls, swinging a woven basket in the crook of her arm. He admired her golden curls that bounced in the most adorable way imaginable as she skipped. Once when Sam got pissed off, and he braced his backpack to take the impact, he locked eyes with her. Her blue eyes raged like a tropical storm, and he found that beauty did exist even in chaos.

When Sam and he tried out the new churro vendor down the street, her hair accidentally dipped into their shared cup of melted chocolate. He hadn't noticed when he dipped the churro, and was only alerted of Sam's hair in his mouth when she frantically yelled his name. His eyes, previously closed as he savored the chocolate, shot open, and he sputtered and spat out the chewed bits of churro, and the tips of Sam's chocolate and spit coated hair. Freddie was worried for a moment that she was going to murder him then and there, but instead, she was overcome by a fit of laughter. Her smile, her laughter, they were absolutely contagious; he was laughing to the point of breathlessness right with her.

It was raining hard one night, and Sam and he were trying to wait out the weather in the Groovy Smoothie. Unfortunately, mother nature was having none of it, and the Smoothie was rapidly approaching closing time. It was Sam's idea to make a run for Bushwell, about two blocks away. Naturally, he was hesitant, but all it took was Sam teasingly taking his hand, "Oh stop being such a baby, you big baby!" She had fired at him. And so, they ran together in the pouring rain hand in hand, laughing as they went. Every inch of them was soaked, and they were regretting their decision only a teensy tiny bit. After being yelled at by Lewburt, they retreated to his apartment for a change of dry clothes, and he never once questioned why Sam didn't borrow clothes from Carly instead. They were both drenched, and Freddie quickly shed his wet button down once they arrived, leaving him in his (also soaked) tank top. When he turned around, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the sight of Sam. She had similarly discarded her wet flannel top and wore a soaked tank top underneath. She wrung her hair dry on his carpet and didn't notice his stare. The way the fabric clung to her figure and accentuated her curves had Freddie's cheeks rapidly heating up. Sam Puckett, he realized as he sprinted to his room to get clothes, was no longer just that girl that's picked on him since middle school. Sam Puckett was a _woman_ , and he had to admit, she was _hot_.

Freddie snorted and shook his head before leaning back and smiling as he pictured her.

They were closer now, but he couldn't properly describe how it felt between them. It wasn't romantic, definitely. But it was more, dare he say, intimate? Freddie's cheeks began to heat up at the idea of the word being even associated with Sam. It's not like he meant _physically_ intimate... Although for a few times now, they had bid each other good bye with a hug when no Carly or Spencer were around to witness it. Sam had also taken to grabbing and holding his hands when she needed to hurriedly get him to go anywhere, as opposed to the back or the shoulder as she would have done before. There was also the fact that Sam had recently developed this habit of stretching out on Carly's sofa and resting her feet on his lap while they watched TV. Other times, like when Carly shared the sofa with them, Sam would fall asleep leaning against him. She was cute when she slept. You'd never guess she could break your bones with nothing but a carton of milk.

That. All of _that_ intimacy, physical and emotional, with Sam was what made his heart flutter and his stomach grumble with unease when Carly first pressed her lips to his. Prior to her kiss, he'd been spending so much time with Sam when they weren't a complete trio. Sam was on his mind more and more, and Carly was just a fleeting thought to him. Hell, the last time Freddie flirted with Carly must have been during their dance after her failed speed dating. But that kiss pressed a reset button in the back of his brain. All his dwindling feelings for her came back in a whirlwind all at once. Before he knew it, his head grew light, and began to enjoy the soft lips against his own. The floodgates burst, and all the fantasies and dreams he had of Carly rushed back like a tidal wave, but this time, they were a reality. His budding feelings for Sam were all but eclipsed.

Of course, it only lasted for so long. When Sam spoke to Freddie in school, recounting her experience with Noseby Moseby and his foreign bacon, Sam rocked his whole world. At first, he thought it was nonsense. This was Sam he was talking to. Surely, she was just pulling his leg, or trying to mess with him and get into his head. But the more he thought about it, the more it all fit in. It all made sense, and it felt like a slap in the face. Nothing changed. He was still the same dork she'd always known. There was no gradual buildup that culminated in her realizing she saw him as more than a friend. She couldn't just wake up one day and realized she had feelings for Freddie. The only reason she kissed him and got together with him was because he saved her life.  She didn't like Freddie for Freddie. She liked what he did, just as Sam said.

Sure, they agreed that maybe someday if the "hero" thing wore off, they might give it a shot again, but... that wasn't going to happen, was it? The whole reason Carly liked him was because of the taco truck. Yet... Freddie couldn't keep at bay the tide of what if's.

What if he wasn't just foreign bacon? What if Carly did like him? What if Carly would grow to like him for who he was? What if he just wasted the opportunity of a lifetime? What if Sam was wrong? What if Sam wanted them to break up and knew just what to tell him to make it happen.

"Oh, Sam." Freddie's worried voice broke the silence.

_THWICK!_

_SPLAT!_

"OUCH!" Freddie let out a cry of pain as his hand shot up to his forehead. He grimaced as a sticky, wet substance coated his fingers. Oh God. It had to be blood, right? He was bleeding. He needed to put pressure on the wound, he needed to get something to staunch the flow of the-

Paint. Purple paint.

"You called?" The voice emanating from his desk chimed, causing Freddie to let out another startled yelp.

Sam Puckett, blow-tube paintball gun in hand, emerged from underneath Freddie's desk. She smiled widely at him, hand on her hip. She was wearing a black sweater, black leggings, and a black beanie. To complete her stealthy getup, she had black face paint obscuring her features. Sam removed her beanie, freeing her blonde locks.

"Sam?! What- how? Why are- What?!" Freddie stammered in confusion as he stared at Sam with wide eyes. How long had she been here? Did she hear him talking to himself? _Why_ was she here?!

The paintball assassin in question extended her arms in a grand gesture as she leaned against his desk, a proud smirk on her features, "Well, what can I say? Mama's a super stealthy assassin-spy!"

His face a mask of confusion, Freddie's mouth opened and closed several times, unable to form a reply. Sam continued, "You see, Freddead, while you were in the shower, I snuck in. I found a cozy spot here under your desk," Sam tapped the tabletop once, "And so I waited for the perfect moment to strike. I was supposed to wait until you fell asleep, but I got tired of waiting."

"Okay... so why did you choose to strike at _this_ moment?" Finally finding his words, Freddie looked at her incredulously while the blonde simply shrugged and grinned at her victim.

"You said my name all of a sudden and it was weird. Don't do that." Sam raised the paintball gun in preparation to fire.

"No, wait! Not again!" Freddie covered his face frantically, "Don't shoot the cripple!"

Sam’s mischievous laughter filled his ears in response.

"Don't worry, these babies only pack one shot." Sam smirked as she set the gun down on his desk.

He studied his assassin, who refused to wipe the smug look off her face. Freddie straightened up as best as he could in bed, "Okay, but _why_ did you wait _four_ hours under my desk just to paintball me in the forehead?"

"Well," Sam clapped her hands together without missing a beat, "I thought it would be hilarious to watch you wake up screaming and _hopefully_ wetting yourself."

Freddie groaned, but he had to hand it to her. Her little stunt took some patience and dedication, and he admired that just a little bit. As Sam stood there, beaming at him, he found her to be as contagious as usual. A smile slowly formed on Freddie's lips before he chuckled and shook his head at her, breaking eye contact. Freddie knew Sam well enough by now to know she probably came here to dally and chat, otherwise she'd already be on the way to the door. If Sam made the effort to break into his room and wait for hours to shoot him in the head, she'd make the most of it and make the time, energy, and effort be worth it. She was more likely to hang around for a bit rather than to just hoof it.

"So, you're here _just_ to shoot me in the face, is that it?" Freddie asked, knowing the opposite was likely the case. He rubbed the paint between his fingers as he observed Sam, who shifted a little uncomfortably. It was his turn to smirk a smug little smirk at her. He could read her like a book.

She shrugged, and her eyes flitted away from his own for a moment as she replied quietly, "I wanted to check in on you."

Okay, maybe not exactly like a book.

Freddie's eyebrows raised in mild surprise, and his heart did a little leap in his chest. He definitely didn't expect her to put it that way. It was always the little acts of kindness that Sam had in store which made his day. Whether it be saving him the last cupcake at the cafeteria, or helping him pick up some dropped books, the tiny things made his stomach giddily swoosh about. It was a feeling that left Freddie feeling more conflicted than he'd like to admit. He’d just broken up with Carly, and here he was getting butterflies from Sam.

Although one could also argue, it's as if the whole taco truck fiasco pressed pause on the budding relationship he had with Sam. While breaking up with Carly was pressing the resume button on how things _really_ were between Sam and Freddie. Freddie pushed the thought away, and instead smiled genuinely at the blonde woman in his room.

"Oh. That's sweet of you, Sam."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam waved a hand in dismissal, rolling her eyes as she did so. Freddie chuckled at that. Leave it to Sam to brush it off like it's nothing.

"Are you going to at least help me clean this up?" Freddie jerked a thumb at his forehead, which was still very purple (and probably bruised, but he wasn’t going to complain).

Sam stroked an imaginary goatee as she appeared to consider with the utmost seriousness. Her head tilted to the side, and she exaggeratedly raised an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction, "I dunno, Fredward. Purple kind of looks good on you."

"Sam." Freddie said flatly as the paint slowly dripped to his eyebrows.

Sam huffed out a chuckle as she grabbed the box of tissues that rested on the desk she leaned on. She made her way across the room and set the box down on Freddie's bedside table. Freddie opened his mouth to thank Sam but stopped when she placed one hand on his headrest for support as she leaned in close, taking a handful of tissue with her other hand. She dabbed the tissue on his forehead with the utmost care and gentleness he didn't know she possessed. Her face, still covered in face paint, was locked in concentration while she worked to make sure she didn't miss a spot. He watched her eyes dart from his forehead to his face as she mopped up the excess splatter that got on his cheeks and nose. Freddie gulped as her curls slowly danced before him. He could pick up the hint of fruity sweetness from her shampoo; a smell he had gotten accustomed to over the weeks from all the leaning on each other on Carly's sofa.

"Don't forget to breathe, dork." Sam muttered as she wiped off the last flecks of paint from Freddie's head. The flustered boy let go of his breath, which he didn't realize he was holding in the first place.

He disguised his embarrassment with a chuckle (poorly), and decided to jab back, "So is this going to become a regular thing? You just pop in every so often past midnight to get your afterhours dose of Freddie?"

Sam delicately traced the tissue along his jaw, getting the little dots of paint that had wound up there as she gave her unimpressed reply, "Firstly, you disgust me," Sam removed her hand from Freddie's headrest, choosing to sit by his side instead. Freddie gulped visibly once again. She sat where Carly sat not long ago when she first kissed him.

"Secondly, you disgust me," Her second finger went up.

"Thirdly, if you ever say, 'afterhours dose of Freddie' again, I will destroy your unbroken limbs," And the third.

"Fourthly, do you have a problem with my visits, Fredward? You should consider yourself lucky to be graced by my presence." Her fourth finger's raising was accompanied by her smug voice.

"Well, consider me graced, Princess Puckett." Freddie teased. He couldn't tell whether Sam loved or hated it when he called her that. All Freddie knew was that it always got a reaction out of her. And he _loved_ pushing a reaction or two out of Sam.

As expected, Sam's stormy eyes shot to his own and briefly tightened into a glare. They quickly relaxed, and Sam upped the smugness, "Yeah, I know you can't get enough of mama, Benson."

Freddie snorted, but didn't bother retorting, which elicited a grin from Sam as she finished her clean up job with a final dab on his chin. She set the tissue down around the boy’s collarbone and paused for a moment. Her eyes studied his face in search of missed flecks of paint, as her grin relaxed into a small smile. Her fingers leisurely slid up his jaw and came to rest on his cheek.

Curiously, Freddie met the blonde’s gaze, cocking his head ever so slightly when her thumb lingered across his lips for a second too long.

“All done,” Sam’s soft voice filled the silence of his bedroom.

"All done.” Freddie echoed after a moment, matching her tone. He searched her eyes. That’s all he could do sometimes, since he dared not ask aloud what her gentle caresses and stolen touches ever meant. After all, speaking of it aloud meant acknowledging that they existed at all, that they meant something, that _something_ between them existed at all. Freddie much preferred to remain in Schrodinger’s Box. If he doesn’t bring it up, maybe they mean something… or maybe they don’t.

Sam must have decided that the moment had dragged on for too long, because it was she who decided to interrupt the quiet.

“If only your face wasn't one that even your mother couldn't love."

The boy rolled his eyes, but smiled just the same, "Thanks, S-" Sam wasted no time stuffing the balled-up tissue into Freddie's mouth before standing up, turning around, and beginning to walk away. Freddie spat the tissue out, his face scrunched up in disgust. He was going to glare at her retreating figure, but was quickly distracted by how cute her butt looked in those leggings of hers as she strutted away. He felt his cheeks grow warm as Sam arrived at his bathroom door, "Hey! And where are you going?"

"Relax, Fredlumps," Sam grabbed the door knob, swinging it open and turning on the lights before stepping inside. She called, "I'm just gonna wash this crud off my face!"

The sound of running water soon became audible, accompanied by the splashes of Sam rubbing away at the paint, "So tell me, Freddington, why are you still awake? I'm sure Mama Benson wouldn't approve of Fredward dearest not getting his shuteye."

Freddie blew the nth raspberry for that day. No other way to go about it than to just tell her, "Well... Remember that talk we had earlier in school?"

More splashing followed before Sam's voice responded, "About how they stopped serving fried chicken at the cafeteria?" Sam released a pained groan, "How could they do this to us?!"

"What?" Freddie's face contorted in confusion, "No... although, yeah. That does suck."

"Right? I thought this was AMERICA! The land of the FREE!" The sound of Sam ramming her fist on the counter in rebellion echoed into Freddie's room… followed by the sound of his toiletries clattering to the floor from the impact.

Freddie couldn't help but laugh quietly at Sam. Her silly, carefree behavior was something he sometimes wished he could have. He was glad that Sam could bring out that side of him when they were together. Fond memories of running together in the rain came to mind.

"But, uhm..." Freddie licked his lips, "No, not that talk. The talk before last period."

Sam groaned in disgust, "About Mr. Howard's cologne? God, I swear I did not think that man could get any more gross. Clearly, I was wrong."

Freddie shook his head, "No, Sam. Mr. Howard's cologne does not keep me up at night."

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, her face buried in - Freddie did a double take - one of his face towels, "Huh. Keeps me up at night. With disgust." Came her muffled voice.

"Look, I was referring to the foreign bacon talk. Remember now? Noseby Moseby, that guy that liked you? Got you that Bacons of the World Club subscription? With the Bolivian bacon that ' _changes you'_?" Freddie gestured with his free hand as Sam finished drying her face. As she haphazardly tossed his face towel back into his bathroom, Freddie found an uncontrollable smile tugging at his lips. Sam's face was illuminated by his digital clock, and the moonlight. And she was as pretty as ever. He looked down and did his best to subdue his mirth before Sam turned back to face him.

The blonde snapped her fingers in recognition, "I hear ya Benson! Keep talking." With almost practiced familiarity, Sam strode over to his computer chair and plopped herself down onto it. To roll herself to Freddie, she then pushed off the ground with an unnecessary amount of force. The chair glided over the floor with smoothness and speed not unlike a race car.

_THUD!_

"Ow! Damnit!" Sam clutched her sore knee and winced, "What the hell, Benson?! Your chair moves so smoothly! I was expecting the wheels to be all gummed up, like the ones in Principal Franklin's office!"

Freddie's eyebrows raised, and he proudly replied, "Well yeah, of course it's smooth ride. I grease those babies myself."

"Eugh. Why does that sound so upsetting?" Sam grimaced, rubbing her bruised knee fervently, "Who knew your bed was so hard?"

The boy smirked, "Oh stop being such a baby, you big baby." Oh, that felt good. He'd been waiting to use that one.

Sam dropped her knee and looked up at Freddie. She was giving him such a strange look; he couldn't quite describe it. Her head was tilted by the slightest angle. Her tongue ran over her lips for the briefest moment. Her deep blue eyes bore into his soul. Sam rose to her feet, steadily closing the distance and easing herself onto Freddie's bed just like before. As the mattress sunk and reacted to the weight of another person joining him, he became hyperaware of their proximity from one another, and how little space there was. Sam's hand landed softly on his chest, causing Freddie's heart to summersault.

"Oh, Freddie." Sam allowed his name to roll off her tongue in a low mutter; a sweet tone that he'd never even dreamed of hearing before, let alone with his name on her lips. The blonde slowly leaned in to Freddie, causing the boy's heart rate to shoot through the roof as his eyes went as wide as saucers. His mind was going haywire. Was she going to kiss him? Wasn't this moving a bit too fast? He'd just broken up with Carly, he couldn't hop onto Sam just like that!

Sam's eyes fluttered close, and her soft lips parted ever so slightly in anticipation of his own. Freddie shut his eyes and waited. And waited. But all he felt was Sam's cheek just barely brushing against his own.

Her blonde locks tickling his face.

Her nails pressing into his chest hard enough to leave marks.

Her sweet, fruity scent in his nostrils.

Freddie's breath hitched when he felt her warm breath against his ear, and every inch of his skin proceeded to perk up with goosebumps as he had to suppress a shudder.

"Don't call me baby unless you mean it, baby." Came Sam's delicate whisper. Freddie's heart pounded in his ears, and his knuckles turned white from gripping his sheets. His eyes only shot open when he felt a flick on his nose. He found Sam already sitting upright, smirking mischievously at him.

"Easy," Sam removed herself from his side with a wink, and dropped back down onto his chair, "You're too easy, Fredfoot."

Freddie stared at Sam with dumbfounded eyes, his mouth suddenly very dry and unable to retort. He released the covers he'd held in his death grip, and shakily wiped at the thin layer of sweat at his brow. She was unbelievable. She was playing with him. She had him in the palm of her hand, and she knew it. Played like a damn fiddle. That's what you get for trying to turn Sam Puckett's words against her. He truly only had himself to blame as he set himself up to fail the moment he thought he could outwit her with that one.

Freddie shook his head, "You're better than this, Benson." He muttered to himself.

"Pfft. Boys. So simplistic." Sam rolled her eyes as she crossed her legs.

Freddie shifted uncomfortably. The lady’s teasing was incomprehensible. He rubbed at his face, hoping the darkness hid the reddest of his skin. He needed to get back on track. They were going to talk about the foreign bacon. He didn't need Sam's flirting or teasing or whatever _this_ was to derail him.

As if Sam read his mind, she loudly clapped her hands together to get his attention, "SO! Anyway, yes, I remember our talk. What I said about how Carly feels is true," She raised a hand to preemptively shoot him down, "No, you can't change my mind."

Freddie nodded slowly as he found his voice again, "No, I can't change your mind. You convinced me."

Sam's mouth shot open as if to argue or wisecrack at him, but she stopped in her tracks, "Oh… I did?" She scoffed and waved a hand coolly, "Of course I did. I'm always right. Duh."

Freddie rolled his eyes as he sighed. He looked downward, avoiding Sam's gaze, "I broke up with Carly earlier. Like," He glanced briefly at his clock, "Five or so hours ago."

When Freddie turned back to Sam, he found her astonished. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape. "W-well- uhm... Okay so...."

She let out an uncomfortable chuckle and wheeled her chair a little closer to Freddie. Sam leaned forward, resting her arms on her knee, hands clasped together.

"Alright... Well how is your little nerd heart holding up?" Sam asked honestly, eyebrows knit into a frown.

Freddie’s eyes fled from Sam’s stormy orbs, darting down as he turned away from Sam. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back on his headboard.

“I… I dunno, Sam. Not doing too great.”

“Gonna miss your Carly kisses?”

Freddie scoffed a little, but couldn’t bring himself to deny it, “Yeah. Guess so.”

Silence filled the bedroom when Sam didn’t respond, but a glance in her direction assured Freddie that she was just waiting for him to continue. Freddie fidgeted with the comforter pulled up to his chest as he contemplated his next words.

“I just… I had it made, you know? Carly Shay and Freddie Benson – together? It was a dream come true. I only spent like, my entire childhood crushing on her,” Freddie paused to lick his lips and chuckle humorlessly, “I was happy – _we_ were happy. I was on Cloud 9, Sam. It was like the thrill and the jitters you get riding a rollercoaster, you know?”

“But then we had our little talk at school, and… Well it was a slap in the face, Puckett-”

“You’re welcome,” She muttered.

“And just like that,” Freddie motioned in the air, “The dream came to an end. I confronted her in the studio about it. About how I was just her foreign bacon.”

Freddie looked down again, “It just made sense, Puckett. Nothing changed. I was the same Freddie; she was the same Carly. So,” He took a big inhale, “I broke up with her. Said that maybe after all this life saving biz has cooled down, we could try again.” He pointedly left out the part where he broke down in the elevator and screamed to the high heavens asking what he just did.

“But I’m just _filled_ with this doubt. It’s in my head and it won’t shut up.” He shut his eyes tight and dropped his head back on his headboard.

“Why does it not surprise me that you hear voices, Fredfreak?” Sam’s barb fell on deaf ears.

“I keep asking myself – what if I was wrong? What if Carly did really like me? Maybe the taco truck was just the nudge she needed to see it! What if Carly would grow to like me anyway?” Freddie’s breathing grew shallower as he spat the words out quicker and quicker.

“What if I just totally blew my one shot at this? What if I don’t get another chance? What if I just made the _biggest_ mistake of my life?” He let out an almost hysterical laugh, “What if I end up forever alone now that I screwed up my chances with Carly? What if she didn’t need time to let the bacon situation die down?”

His hand ruffled his short brunette hair in frustration as the words continued to pour from his mouth now, “I just – How do I know I made the right decision here? And – and how do I know _you’re_ right? What makes you the authority on love? And I guess – I guess I’ve just been lying awake here wondering what about Sam, what could she possibly have to gain from telling me I was Carly’s bacon? What was Sam’s motive? Why would Sam want to break Carly and I up? Just for kicks? Was it some kind of sick joke? Laugh about it later? I mean you’ve done lots of cruel things to me over the years, Puckett, I wouldn’t put it past y-”

Her hand shot to Freddie’s chest, nails scratching his chest, and fist balling up at his collar. Sam towered over him, pulling him forward by his shirt. Her fist was cocked back and ready to strike.

“What did I have to _gain_?! My _motive_?!” Her fist trembled as much as her infuriated voice did. The storm in her deep blue eyes cracked and thundered, seeking to hurt, to destroy.

“No – please, Sam! Don’t!” Freddie whimpered as his one good hand went up to shield his face.

Sam wore a look of palpable disgust on her face as she released Freddie and allowed him to roughly hit the back of his headboard. The livid blonde turned around and took a single step away from the bed. Her hands went up to rub at her upper arms. Freddie watched with eyes wide. His pupils took in every detail of her tense form. Her hands dropped to her sides, clenching and unclenching. Her right leg slid back an inch, muscles tensed to kick his chair clear across the room. But she resisted. He almost wished she did anyway; he deserved it. He knew Sam better than that, and he knew it. He couldn’t associate the word “cruel” with Sam ever since _the kiss_. She’d never done anything that merited such a harsh word since then.

Sam raised her balled fists into the air one final time before dropping them to her sides and turning to face Freddie. Her lip curled in a small sneer as her thunderous eyes studied his face.

“I told you because you’re my _friend_ , Benson.”

Tight knots twisted in his stomach, and his heart strained against his ribcage. Oh, he screwed up now. He was horrible. What kind of terrible friend was he to accuse her of having ulterior motives?

She scoffed and took a step forward before continuing, “My motive, Freddie? It was to try and be there for you.”

The anger began to simmer down. But in its place, came hurt and betrayal, “You know, like how you were there for me after the whole _Pete thing_ last month?”

“Sam-”

“It’s why I’m here right now, too! Because… because – Ugh!” Her hands balled up into frustrated fists, “Because we have each other’s backs, Freddie! It’s what we do, okay?! That’s why _this_ is special!”

Freddie sank further into his bed with wide eyes as she continued her tirade, “We’re not even supposed to get all mushy and talk about _this_! That’s against the rules!”

At that, his face scrunched up incredulously, “What rules?!”

Sam took another step, leaning forward, “The rules of _this_ ,” Her finger pointed back and forth between herself and Freddie. She straightened up, looking down at him and heaving a heavy exhale. Sam shook her head, no longer taking any measure to conceal to hurt on her features.

“But you know what? Forget it.” Sam Puckett turned to leave.

“Sam, wait!” With his good hand, Freddie grabbed hold of Sam’s. She didn’t recoil, to his surprise. She shuffled her feet to face him once more, her face now a blank mask. But her eyes? Oh, her eyes. Freddie knew her eyes too well. He knew betrayal when he saw it.

“I’m sorry,” He starts, “I don’t know what I was thinking. I haven’t been thinking straight since this evening. That’s no excuse, and I was totally out of line. That was not cool.”

Freddie’s dark orbs peered into Sam’s downcast eyes that refused to meet his own. His hand gently squeezed hers. She nodded once.

“I really, really do appreciate you being here for me. I couldn’t ask for a better friend, Sam. I am a dumb, idiot nub for thinking you told me about the foreign bacon to hurt me. I… I can’t remember the last time one of your pranks _actually_ hurt me, Sam.” Freddie ducked his head lower, trying to meet her gaze.

She muttered, the ghost of a smirk on her features.

“What was that?” Freddie found himself mirroring her expression.

Her eyes darted up to meet his, and the mischievous smirk widened slightly, “I said I clearly haven’t pranked you enough.”

Freddie chuckled, and to his relief, so did she.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I know you better than that. I should’ve known you were looking out for me. Like you said: we got each other’s backs, right?” Freddie looked up at her with his pleading gaze, his thumb gently running across her knuckles.

“That’s right, Benson.” Was her quiet response.

“Are we good, Puckett?” Freddie gave a small, hopeful smile.

Sam’s eyes shut, and she took a deep breath.

In.

Out.

 Her eyes – beautiful and stormy, and full of raw emotion – fluttered open, and took Freddie’s breath away with it. A small, yet dazzling smile found its way to her lips as she gave a small nod.

“We’re good.”

Freddie grinned up at the blonde above him as he squeezed her hand once. It was a motion that he still figured would possibly get his leg broken. Yet he went for it anyway, and her smile widened ever so slightly. Her hand squeezed back before gently slipping free, coiling back, and slugging Freddie in the shoulder, twisting at the hips and putting her full weight into it.

Freddie hissed through his teeth, his bewildered expression meeting Sam’s smirk.

“Handsy, aren’t we?” She asked.

“You squeezed back!”

“No, I didn’t,” Sam’s fist dug into his shoulder a second time with pinpoint precision, eliciting a grunt. He fervently rubbed the sore spot.

“Ugh… No, you didn’t.” Freddie surrendered, rolling his sleeve up to look at the steadily forming bruise.

“Now we’re good, Handsy,” Sam grinned proudly as she eased herself back onto his chair, prompting Freddie to stick his tongue out at her. She returned the gesture in kind as she crossed her legs, hands interlocking behind her head.

“Now. Where were we?”

“Well,” Freddie sighed, “I was having a breakdown because I broke up with Carly.”

“Mm,” She hummed in affirmation, “Ask yourself, Freddo: Do you really believe that in these past few days, you were anything more than Carly’s Bolivian bacon?”

A pregnant pause filled the air as Freddie leaned back against his headboard again. Nothing changed. Same old Freddie. Same old Carly.

“What changed, Freddie? I’ll give you a hint. Starts with a T… and ends with a ‘-aco truck’”

He snorted in amusement despite it all, “Yeah. Yeah, it was all that damn truck. You really think I did the right thing?”

“Dude, it was going to happen sooner or later. What, would you have preferred it stretched on a couple of weeks before Carly came to her senses and confronted you? You ask me, it’s better you got one step ahead of it. Saved yourself a world of hurt there, Benson.”

She had a point. It would have been downright soul crushing to break up with Carly after getting into a rhythm with her as a couple. Yet… “You think Carly would’ve broken up with me?”

“Fredward,” Sam scoffed, “This is our pure, little Carly Shay we’re talking about. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she realized she was only coming on to you on because of your taco-truck-be-gone powers. She’s a smart chick, she would’ve realized it once the honeymoon high was over.”

“You know,” She switched her legs over, crossing them again, “I told you that you were bacon for her sake as much as yours.”

Freddie frowned slightly but nodded for her to continue.

“You’re both my friends. I don’t want either of you getting hurt, okay? I just figured you’d be a little easier to get through to since, well…” Sam trailed off, averting her gaze briefly before pointing at herself and Freddie, “ _This_.”

“That, and you’re usually the more boring, grounded one, and Carly was the one with the taco-truck-high.” She shrugged.

“I didn’t manipulate you into breaking up with Carly just for kicks. I wanted you to see things from a different perspective. What you did with that info was up to you. Again, you know me better than that, Benson. Shockingly,” Sam uncrossed her legs, kicked off her shoes, and rested her feet on Freddie’s lap, much like a stool, “Even I have boundaries.”

“Shockingly,” Freddie repeated with a scoff, eyes on her feet. He sighed, shooting Sam an apologetic look, “I know. I’m really sorry about that, Sam.”

The blonde in question raised her hand up to wave him off, giving him a good-natured smirk.

“I just feel like it’s a wasted opportunity, you know? I mean… I was already there and-”

“But was it real?” Sam cut him off. And cut him off she did. Freddie shut his eyes, sighing as he rubbed his face tiredly.

“I guess not.”

“Then you didn’t waste anything, Fredward. You can’t waste what was never there. Now, if you manage to score a date with Carls sometime later when this all blows over, but puke all over her at the dinner table, THAT, would be a wasted opportunity.”

Freddie grimaced at the mental image, shaking it out before it could be imprinted in his memory. But she was right. And he didn’t need to keep beating himself up for it. There was a brief life-or-death situation, emotions ran high, Carly expressed the raw emotion in a way that made sense to her at the time. There was nothing more to it. The thought should’ve been sad, weighing in his gut like a sack full of stones. Yet, Freddie felt… lighter. The knots in his stomach came undone. He breathed easy. Carly was a wonderful person, and she deserved something real on both ends. Now just wasn’t the time.

He glanced at Sam, who had her eyes closed, hands still joined at the back of her head, legs propped up on his lap: the very image of leisure.

Freddie chuckled to himself, and the weight she had taken off his shoulders. She was just something else. Full of a surprising amount of insight, and with a heart big enough to make her wait in the shadows of his room for hours, just to shoot him in the head and check in on his wellbeing. He couldn’t bring himself to take his gaze away from Sam as she reclined there, without a care in the world. The words spilled from his mouth before he even knew where he was going with it.

“Other reason I couldn’t sleep was… well, I’ve been confused, I suppose.”

“Oh, do tell. Does Freducini swing both ways? I know a couple of guys th-”

“No! Sam, not like that, I-”

Sam’s mischievous giggling filled the room, and he couldn’t help but begin to laugh along with her. He walked right into that one. When he regained his composure, he continued.

“I meant I was confused by my feelings. Between Carly, and…” Freddie couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Saying it out loud, acknowledging it, that opened Schrodinger’s Feelings Box. He wasn’t quite sure if he was ready for that. So instead, he gave Sam a long, meaningful look. Sam studied him, giving him the ghost of a smile in return.

The box be damned.

“After… y’know. When you came over last month to talk. We kind of…” Freddie chuckled nervously, “Talked about a lot. And more than just about Pete.”

“I know. Our,” Sam motioned with air quotes, “‘Strange little feelings,’ I think is how I put it.”

Freddie held his breath.

“And we said we should talk about it another time. There was… a lot to process.”

Silence began to settle between them once more as Freddie considered his words. Sam’s gaze did not waver, watching Freddie intently the entire time, almost like a predator stalking its prey.

“Things were going pretty well between the two of us. Sure, we’d fight, but no more than the usual. And we hung out a lot, and it was fun, you know.” He spoke slowly, cautiously, as if fearing the slightest misstep would send Sam into a frenzy. But the fond – or dare he say shy? – smile she wore was evidence that she was not waiting for an excuse to rip at him.

“Yeah, sometimes just the two of us.” She nodded slowly.

“Our little date-not-dates.” Freddie chimed.

Sam’s fond smile contorted into a look of disgust, “What? Is that what you’ve been calling them in your dorky head? Can you not?” She can’t help but laugh the last part out, as Freddie’s laughter joins hers. The silence that followed was more comfortable than the last. Glances and smiles in the dark are stolen from one another, as if looking at each other directly would spoil whatever it was they had. But in the silence, Freddie ruminates. He can’t help it. It’s just what he does, what he’s always done. He thinks too much. But this time it’s of the night of the accident that started the whole mess with Carly.

“Hey, you wanna know something? I don’t think Carly or anyone else knows.” He began.

Sam made a show of sneering at Freddie, “Is this something gross about your body?”

“No,” His eyes roll reflexively, but he smiles anyway, “It’s about the accident.”

Sam waved her hand, urging him to continue.

“It was raining out there, right? And we didn’t want the rain to ruin the Easter Bunny suit’s fur, so we figured, ‘let’s do the toothbrush skit another time,’ then we got Carly to change out of it before we left the lobby to head to the Smoothie?”

“Yeah?” Sam affirmed.

“Then you two had these hoodies on for the rain, both kinda dark. I actually… I had no idea who was crossing. I didn’t notice which one of you went ahead onto the street. It all happened so fast.” Freddie’s voice softened, and he found himself looking straight ahead, avoiding Sam’s gaze. His hand anxiously gripped at the comforter on his chest. It wasn’t easy recalling the details of the accident. It was scary. It hurt like hell. It wasn’t nice to think about. But talking to Sam about these things made him feel better. Sam made him feel better. So, he continued.

“I didn’t know it was Carly. I just saw one of you there, and I saw the truck, and I had to do something,” Freddie spoke, firmer this time, enunciating the last few words, “I… I had to.”

Sam’s feet withdrew from their perch on Freddie’s lap. Slowly, as if afraid of spooking the boy, she stood up and closed the distance between them. Sam eased herself on the edge of his bed, facing him. The bed creaked and sunk slightly to accommodate her, and Freddie found his attention drawn back to Sam, his expression solemn, and hers sympathetic. This time Freddie didn’t note how Sam once again sat where Carly sat when they first kissed.

“I didn’t think about it, didn’t think twice. Didn’t have time to think twice. I just saw my friend was in danger, and I jumped.” A tiny lump formed at his throat and made his voice waver in the slightest. Sam’s hand gingerly slid over his fist holding onto his comforter in a death grip.

“Hey,” She whispered softer than he’d ever heard before. Freddie’s grip on the comforter eased, fingers parting and allowing Sam to intertwine her digits with his. She lowered their joined hands onto her lap, before settling her other hand over his. She squeezed, nodding for him to continue. He gave her a sad smile.

“It was scary – horrifying,” Freddie released a shaky breath, “I remember when I first woke up on the pavement, I couldn’t feel my leg. That’s what got to me, you know? It was because of the adrenaline of course, but at the time I thought I was paralyzed or something.”

Sam gave his hand a supportive squeeze, and displayed empathy Freddie was still sometime surprised to see her possess. He was grateful, nonetheless. He always would be, because that’s who they were. They had each other’s backs.

“It just messed with me a lot. When I came to in the hospital and could feel my leg again, it was a huge relief. But those, what? Two minutes? When I was awake and you two were calling 911? Freaky.” He chuckled humorlessly, “Like, I could see my busted leg. I know it’s there, but I know I’m supposed to feel it. I could hardly move it either. I mean, duh, it was broken, but… at the time, I just… My brain kept sending the signal to my leg, telling it to move. It didn’t move. That’s what freaked me out.”

“Oh, Freddie,” Sam bit her lip. Freddie swallowed the lump in his throat, regaining some control over his voice.

“I don’t remember anything you guys said to me before I got to the hospital. I was too busy having a quiet meltdown over my leg. It wasn’t until we were at the hospital when I found out who I saved from that stupid taco truck. Everyone’s saying I’m such a hero for saving Carly,” Freddie scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I saved the girl I love, right? That’s true love right there! What a hero!”

“That’s what everyone thinks, but the truth is I _didn’t_ know it was Carly. I would’ve jumped in front of that truck if I knew it were you. Or Spencer, or anyone really.”

It was Sam’s turn to scoff at Freddie, “Well, as dorky as it is to say, Freddie, but that’s exactly why you _are_ a hero. You didn’t do it because it was Carly. You did it because you saw your friend in trouble and didn’t think twice. You got guts, kid,” She paused to squeeze his hand tight, “And you only cried like a baby once throughout the whole thing, when you saw Mama Benson at the hospital.”

“If that were me, I think I would’ve been yelling and cussing out a storm seeing my leg messed up. You,” She freed one hand for a moment to softly punch his midsection, “Are made of tougher stuff than you look, Benson.”

Another weight easing off his shoulders, Freddie smiled up at the blonde, taking refuge in those stormy orbs that he loved to get lost in, “Thanks, Sam. It means a lot.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Freddo.”

Freddie paused, just taking in the sight of Sam sitting at the edge of his bed. Their intertwined fingers, hands resting on her lap, her thumb rubbing soothing patterns across his knuckles. The beautiful, easy-going, supportive smile she wore as opposed to her roguish smirk (which he enjoyed just the same). Her golden locks cascading in waves over her back and shoulders. Smooth alabaster skin illuminated by the moonlight. And her eyes. He could go on about those damn eyes for years. The chaos, the storm, the tranquility, the peace, the absolute multitude of emotions that those infinitely deep eyes could express. Sam Puckett was lovely.

“Watcha lookin’ at, Fredward?” She arched a quizzical brow.

You’re just the prettiest, you know that, Puckett?

“Uhh… No, I was just thinking again.” Freddie blinked himself out of the daze. He belatedly realized that she sat once again where Carly had, and this time, he just chuckled.

“I know I keep saying it, but it all happened _so_ fast. And I’m not just talking about the accident, but the Carly stuff. I don’t know if she gave you the deets. Basically, after getting back from the hospital, Carly was in here, and sat where you sit now-”

“Gross.”

“-And she was telling me I was her hero, and then she kissed me. Next thing I know, we’re hobbling around school together as if we’re suddenly a couple – I mean, I guess we were, but… There wasn’t any time, you know? We never really got to… process our feelings. Everything was just… woosh.”

“Because of how fast it went by, no time to process anything, I…” Freddie glanced at Sam, who gave him her full attention. He gulped. The box be damned, “I didn’t get to take into account my _other_ feelings either.”

Sam nodded at him slowly, rolling her eyes at his subtlety, “You mean,” She raised their joined hands, “ _This_?”

It puzzled Freddie how she was being more forward about _this_ now. It was just a moment ago she was saying they weren’t supposed to even _talk_ about _this_. But Freddie just chalked it up to the fact that they were already holding hands and alluding to it. It was just a waste of time beating around the bush.

“Yeah. This,” Freddie took a deep breath, “And you know, getting it all out there, talking about this all out loud with you, I think you’re right. I really did make the right decision in the end. No more doubts.”

“Damn straight, Benson.” Sam beamed with pride.

“If I’m ever going to _be_ with Carly, I want it to be _real_. If I’m going to be with _anyone_ , I want it to be real. I don’t want to be someone’s foreign bacon.” His resolve was steely.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Freduardo.”

Real.

That’s what mattered. No taco truck hero shenanigans. No false reasons for attraction. No foreign bacon. A real honest to God connection is what he needed. A solid foundation of trust, and support. The freedom of being so sure and confident with yourself, because you know if all else fails, someone special has got your back. Knowing each other, _really_ knowing each other. How they tick, what sets them off, what calms them down.

He wanted someone he could count on, someone that liked him for who he was, for being Same ol’ Freddie. Someone he could laugh with and pal around with. Someone…

Wait.

Bouncing blonde locks, churro sampling, running in the rain, exam reviewing, visitations in the dead of night, and stormy blue eyes all came to mind.

They… they were real. Weren’t they? Emotional support and trust weren’t exactly a shallow building block… right?

Freddie gulped. The box be damned. The box be damned. Schrodinger can take the box and shove it. No more uncertainty. If there was anything taco trucks taught him, it was that life can be fleeting. Act now, not later.

“Hey,” Freddie squeezed Sam’s hand. The tug at the corner of her lips gave away her suppressed smile as she squeezed back.

“Hmm?” She let out an inquisitive hum.

“We’re real, right?” Is his quiet question.

The first thing she does is chuckle, but Freddie knows it’s because she didn’t expect it.

“Pardon?” Sam asks with a frown. She delays, so he presses.

“We’re real? This,” Freddie lifted their intertwined hands slightly, “ _Us_. We’re real, right?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, “Talking ‘bout this is against the rules, Fredward.”

He didn’t miss a beat, “So was being mushy, so I guess I’ll just-” He made to untangle his hand from hers. Sam’s fingers responded by tightening around his own. She seemed as surprised as he was, mouth slightly ajar. Sam’s eyes shot away from his, and down to her hand. Shame crossed her features. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, tongue flitting across her now dry lips.

“Sorry…” Was the awkward mumble she replied, hands loosening to withdraw. It was his turn to hold firm. The resistance caught her attention, eyes snapping back to his. He wore a gentle smile and did not waver.

“Are we real, Sam?”

They were caught in a bit of a stare-off. He could see the distress within her stormy eyes. It was an easy question, with an easy answer. But the implications that they would bring were hefty. But he did not back down. If he’d learned anything from the years he’d known Sam, it was not to back down when she was caught in the headlights like this. A gentle urging was the best you could do, but if you give her ground, she would rather deflect. If you took ground from her, she would rather push back. Because that’s just who she was. His girl was a fighter.

“Sam…” The affection that carried her name on his voice made her swoon. But of course, she’d never tell him that.

Another breath of air escaped her lips, a cross between a chuckle and a scoff. She shifted a little as her eyes looked everywhere but him. After a few moments that felt like hours, she gave Freddie a mirthless smile.

“Don’t you think it’s a bad time to be talkin’ ‘bout _us_ , Freddie?” She asked.

He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he too avoided looking at Sam directly. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He said.

Sam bit down on her lip as she just looked at the boy. What was going through her mind, Freddie could only guess. Sam let out a quiet sigh as she shifted again, yet kept her hold on Freddie’s hands, as if refusing to let go, like letting go of his hands meant letting go of _them_.

She eventually spoke up, “Look, I’m not saying no. You’re not in a good place right now, Fredward. Your little nerd heart is still sore over Carly. Let’s talk after we put some time between _us_ and your taco truck. How does that sound?”

Sam had a point. If he wanted to have something _real_ , then the least he could do is give it time and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid and rebound-y. He liked Sam. He really did. But he didn’t want to displace his confused Carly feelings onto her either. She deserved better than a rebound. Only the best for Princess Puckett.

Freddie nodded slowly and let out his own humorless chuckle at his poor sense of timing. “Yeah, Sam. That sounds fine.” He said.

She nodded back, pursing her lips, before replying, “Okay.”

“Okay,” He echoed.

Sam’s thumb stroked over his knuckles in a show of solidarity, before craning her head back to look at his clock, blonde curls bouncing over her shoulder. The digital display read 2:55 AM. She turned her head back with a slightly quirked brow.

“Didn’t you once mention your mom comes in every six hours to check your temp, help you with painkillers, all that chiz?” She inquired.

Freddie saw where this was going. “Yeah, good call. She last checked in on me at 9PM. She’ll be here any minute,” Freddie replied.

Sam snorted in amusement.

“What?” Freddie questioned with a frown, “My mom’s overbearing, I knooow.”

“No, it’s not that,” She chuckled with the wave of a hand, “I was just imagining how bonkers Crazy is going to be if she sees me here alone with you at three in the morning.”

Freddie’s eyes widened a little at that, suddenly hyperaware of the implications of his mother walking through his door at that very moment. Sam needed to scram, or he’d never hear the end of it. But Freddie didn’t want to see her go. He never really did. But of course, she had to go, that was a given the moment she appeared under his desk. Goodbyes just sucked.

“Anyway, that’s my cue. With any luck, I won’t bump into Crazy on the way to the front door.” Sam said. With a final squeeze, she released Freddie’s hands, and bent down to put her shoes back on. Freddie watched her in silence, his hand resting on her lap after being released. There would be time. They had time. There was no rush. No need to force anything. He’d see her again tomorrow, and in the days to come. Time would pass and the taco truck would eventually be a distant memory. Maybe he’d ask her again then, when there were no doubts, no taco trucks, no Carly, no external factors to cloud their judgment. Until then, he was content with _this_.

Sam straightened up, arms stretching up to the ceiling. She groaned as a few pops sounded from her stiff joints. With a sigh, her hands came back down, one settling on top of his. She turned to look at Freddie as he admired her. She rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle staring. “Fredward, I know I’m gorgeous, but it’s rude to stare.”

Freddie reddened and choked on his spit a little, coughing out a laugh. It elicited a giggle from Sam. “Can’t help it with you sitting there looking like that, Puckett.” Freddie teased with a shrug.

It was Sam’s turn for her face to mimic a ripe tomato. However, she never missed a beat, “Yeah, you don’t look so bad yourself with the whole Bran Stark thing going on.” Sam fired back with a motion towards his leg.

Freddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain his laugh while Sam got to her feet. She stood for a moment, a little awkwardly, not quite knowing how to say goodbye. The feeling was mutual.

“So… I’ll see you around, dork,” She said.

“I hate you.” He grinned up at her like the dork he was.

“I hate you too, Fredward.” She replied in kind with a more reserved smile.

Before either of them could drag the moment on for any longer, Sam turned and took quick and quiet steps to his door, lest she be caught by Mrs. Benson. Sam had the door open and was halfway through when she spared Freddie one last glance. He waited with bated breath for any last words. Instead she winked, and she was gone, the door gently shutting behind her.

“Oh, Sam.” Freddie muttered under his breath, and began praying she’d make it out without crossing paths with his mother.


End file.
